


Of Bad Habits and Addictions

by LostinFic



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 12:48:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1348024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostinFic/pseuds/LostinFic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When they kiss she can feel herself sinking deeper and deeper until the kissing becomes devouring. And that’s probably the most addictive part: this hunger for each other. An insatiable hunger that makes her moody and restless; like an addict she has withdrawal symptoms. ” Somewhat angsty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Bad Habits and Addictions

He should have seen it coming, but as people often do, he recognized the signs too late. Or was it just that he didn’t want to see them?

There was the hesitation in her voice when he suggested a trip to New York, the sci-fi convention a perfect alibi to share a hotel room for a few days. Her smile had not been as bright as it usually was when they got to have a few days (mostly) to themselves. And then there was the way she shagged him last night.

 

She followed him to his room, biting her nails and barely looking at him the whole way. But she was on him as soon as the door was closed. She kissed him hard, wanting him to feel how her whole body ached for him. The room was dark except for the light from the buildings outside that made their skin blue and gold as they undressed. She couldn’t get him naked fast enough, pushing him on the bed with his trousers still around his ankles, stuck in his shoes. She straddled him and reached for him, stroking with haste. He put his hand over hers to slow down her movements, laughing but pleased by her eagerness.

When she sunk down on him, he could tell she wasn’t ready. He tried to change their position but she pushed back on his shoulders, fighting for dominance. She bucked her hips quickly, roughly, her eyes closed and her face scrunched up in concentration or was it frustration. He tasted the beads of sweat between her breasts, licking his way to her mouth, kissing her sloppily. When he lay back down, she followed, resting her forehead on his chest. Her movements became frantic, her eyes still closed, like she was trying to fuck her own brain out. Her nails dug in his sides more out of rage than pleasure. She was not really there with him.

“Bills… Billie. Look at me.”

She kept her eyes closed. He wrapped his arms around her and she finally stilled. He felt her trembling despite her feverish skin and he held her closer.

“What’s going on, love?”

“I… I don’t want to think,” she answered, burying her face in his neck.

He understood that, the desire to lose oneself in pleasure. He could do that for her.

In one swift movement, she was on her back, with David over her, a predatory look in his eyes. He spent the rest of the night making sure she was lost in a fog of delicious sensations, reducing her to an incoherent, sweaty, happy mess.

 

He called her tiger afterwards, pointing at the scratches on his chest (how was he going to hide that?) and the sound of her laughter reassured him.

 

###

 

He always wakes up before her even when they’re on vacation. Well technically they’re working but it feels like a vacation when they get to stay at a hotel together. He comes back to the room with two cups of coffee. She knows he also stepped out to call his girlfriend. She doesn’t mind, she can already tell that it’s not going to last. Surprisingly, she can’t say the same about her own relationship, a fact that has been bothering her lately.

 

He hands her a pack of cigarettes with her coffee, slumping down onto the bed next to her. He remembers her smoking the last one on the balcony last night, with only a bed sheet around her.

“Thanks love, you’re the best.”

“Aren’t I just?” He tilts his head to receive the kiss he knows he deserves.

“Why do you encourage my bad habits?”

“Because I’m one of your bad habits too.”

She mulls this over for a minute and he doesn’t like the crease forming on her forehead.

“Are you saying I should try to quit you?”

“I’m not too worried about that, you can’t even quit smoking.”

It’s a joke of course, but it’s mean and he regrets saying it as soon as he sees the look on her face.

“Maybe I’ve got more will power than you think.”

She quickly stands up and puts her shirt back on. The fabric slides along the curve of her waist like his fingers had only a few hours ago.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“I know, but you’re right.”

 

There’s a tight feeling in her chest and she’s afraid she’ll cry. She feels his fingers tentatively wrap around her hand and she lets him because that’s what she needs right now, a hand to hold. It’s a strange relationship, theirs, alternating between lovers and best friends. Whatever his role, he’s always there to hold her hand.

 

He knows she’s not some sort of drama queen who says that to get a rise out of him. The first time she’d said they should stop sleeping together, he had tried to make her change her mind, refusing to make this easy for her, saying things he wished he could take back. In the end he had hurt her more than anything. So now, when she talks about quitting, he has to fight his every instincts but he doesn’t argue. She had done the same when he was to one to call it quit the last time. Mutual respect and everything. More often than not it’s their busy schedules and hectic lives that keep them away from each other, especially when he’s in Cardiff. But every once in a while the guilt becomes too much.

 

Sometimes she thinks it’s all her fault: she should’ve broken up with her boyfriend before sleeping with David. But it’s not like it was planned: sure they’d been flirting for weeks, both aware of the mutual attraction but then there was one too many lingering hug and there was no stopping them. Every minute of spare time they had was spent shagging each other. That is until she got sick and had to go back home for a week. Her boyfriend was there to take care of her and the remorse caught up with her.

 

But now she’s getting older and she’s starting to think more and more about her future, about him, his feelings for her, her feelings for him. She often wonders if he loves her but he only says so in interviews.

 

And really, how could it be anything more than sex when he called her at 11:30 on a Wednesday night two months ago saying his girlfriend was out of town and he missed her. “Where?” was her reply. And she’d hopped on a cab without a second thought and her breath had caught in her throat when she had seen him.

 

When they kiss she can feel herself sinking deeper and deeper until the kissing becomes devouring. And that’s probably the most addictive part: this hunger for each other. An insatiable hunger that makes her moody and restless; like an addict she has withdrawal symptoms. The admiration of thousands of fans doesn’t compare to the rush she gets from the way he looks at her when she’s naked. She never feels more like a goddess than when his mouth is between her legs. And no one can make her come like he does because no one knows her like he does. Because there’s no one she’s more herself with.

“How long have you been up?” she’d asked the next morning.

“Long enough to call my maw and get her pancake recipe.”

“Does this recipe involve deep-fried mars bars?” she’d teased him.

“Shut yer geggy, lassy! Yer bum’s oot the windae.” He’d tried to keep a straight face, delighted by how much it made her laugh. “I’ll take ye tae Embra and ye gaunnae like it!”

He kept talking until she was laughing so hard she was crying. Then they’d made love again and spent the day in bed, eating pancakes and watching telly like the normal couple they weren’t.

 

And really, that’s what is so confusing: after all the urges and primal sex there’s kindness and caring and laughing. But he never did take her to Scotland. He took someone else, though.

 

So in the end maybe it’s all it is: a loyal friendship and mind-blowing sex. Expect, if she’s really honest, she has to admit that it’s more than that for her. It’s more than that otherwise it wouldn’t feel like she can’t breathe when she thinks about never kissing him again. But she has to be realistic; clearly she’s not the one for him if he keeps searching for another woman. So when another man proposes she says yes. He’s a very good bloke and she doesn’t want to spend her life being second best.

 

When he receives the wedding invitation a few weeks after that morning in New York, he realizes he truly believed they were going to find their way back to each other. He never thought their separation would last. He’s utterly miserable and insufferable for days afterwards. He contemplates calling her and admitting how he craves her and how much that scares him and maybe apologizing for his behavior. But she didn’t choose him which means the only thing he has left is their friendship and he doesn’t want to risk losing that. Or maybe he’s just a coward.

 

He sees her for the first time since their separation as she enters the church to marry another man. He tells himself that she’s happy and it’s all that matters. As she walks down the aisle, she avoids his gaze. He leaves the reception early.

 

They don’t talk for months after that. He hates the hope that blossoms in his chest when he sees an envelope from her in his letter box only to find out it’s one of those thank you cards every wedding attendee will receive. He throws it away. 

She loses track of how many times she’s dialed his number and hung up before the first ring. Whoever said “out of sight, out of mind” was sorely mistaken.

 

April comes, there are new leaves on trees and that fresh Spring smell in the air. It’s David’s birthday and maybe it’s time to start anew. She hesitates, standing in the kitchen, phone in hand. There are butterflies in her stomach and her heart speeds up in anticipation of hearing his voice. When a woman answers his mobile, she almost hangs up.

“Bills!”

She’d forgotten how much she likes the way her name sounds like “bells” in his mouth. She thinks he might be drunk and her suspicion is quickly confirmed.

“Billie, Billie, Billie the Piper,” she hears the noise in the background fade away, “I’m so glad you’re calling, I was hoping you would call… Billie Piper, my precious girl,” he adds, almost reverently.

“Are you having a party?”

“Sort of… not a proper party just a few mates… I wanted to invite you but I wasn’t sure…”

“S’ok,” in fact she’s kind of glad he spared her the dilemma. “So happy birthday, I hope you’ll have a wonderful year and lots of fun projects.”

“Thanks. I’m so glad you’re calling.”

She considers telling him he already said so.

“I’m glad I’m calling too…Where are you?”

“Bedroom… you?”

She wanted to know what town or pub but she doesn’t correct him.

“Kitchen… I’m by myself tonight,” she adds, even though she knows it’s a bad idea.

“I thought about you today, about what you did for my birthday last year.”

She remembers too: the hotel suite, the lingerie, the best blow job of his life. She’d plan the whole thing behind her boyfriend’s back, an entire night dedicated to another man’s pleasure. She felt guilty but never regretful.

“I’ve been thinking about it all day,” he makes a sort of strangled noise and she wonders if he’s touching himself, “you were so beautiful. I miss seeing you… can you send me a picture of yourself right now?… M’not asking for a sexy one, well unless you want to, I just want to see you.”

“I know you have pictures of me on your phone, why don’t you look at those?”

He makes a frustrated noise.

“I deleted them when you got married.” She wants more explanation but he’s in no state to have that conversation. “Now I have to look at paparazzi pics when I want to have a wank, it’s very annoying… I probably shouldn’t have told you that.”

She laughs at him but she’s oddly flattered by that revelation.

“… so ‘bout that photo?”

She takes a look at herself in the hall mirror.

“Oh alright, birthday boy, but you have to send me one too.”

She licks her lips and pulls down her top an inch or two, because really she loves the flirting more than she hates herself for giving in so easily. It’s so simple and she’s missed this so much.

 

He sends her a full length picture of himself his jeans opened, low on his hips. She can see the scar on his lower abdomen and she remembers the feel of it under her fingers and tongue. When he receives her picture, he whispers words of adoration in the phone and the heel of her hand presses against her mound. It’s really not the way she wanted this phone call to go but she can’t say she’s surprised. She asks him to keep on talking and there’s a note of desperation in her voice that betrays her. He tells her all the things he wishes he could do to her right now the way he recites Shakespeare sonnets. Her fingers slip between her legs and she leans for balance on the counter where she has breakfast with her husband every morning. When David says: “Come for me my precious girl” she does almost immediately, his name on her lips. She sends him another picture of herself with her fingers in her mouth and that’s his undoing.

 

When they meet later that week, he’s standing on the sidewalk between a hotel and a restaurant, looking dashing in a tweed jacket and jeans, he greets her with a crooked grin. She exhales smoke with a smile as she approaches and says: “I just can’t quit”.


End file.
